


Look What We've Done

by Pteropoda (SilentP)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, M/M, Other, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:16:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentP/pseuds/Pteropoda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was leaving Cybertron behind, Orion Pax wondered why Prowl never asked him to stay. Now, with the universe safe and Shockwave defeated, Optimus Prime regrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look What We've Done

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt that asked for dysfunctional IDW Optimus/Prowl. An unedited version was posted to my tumblr a couple months ago, if this looks familiar.
> 
> Set in the immediate aftermath of Dark Cybertron.

New Iacon was in ruins.

It was a miracle that any of it had survived after being the site of a battle between Metrotitans, but Optimus’s spark still ached to see the destruction of everything Cybertron had accomplished in his absence. Those buildings were a tangible symbol of the tumultuous peace, and although they could be rebuilt soon enough, Optimus had hoped that they had left that sort of destruction behind.

The Autobots had done everything they could— _he_ had done everything he could—to keep it from happening, but they hadn’t succeeded. He had to wonder what the neutrals would think of that this time.

He would have to find out how the situation was developing sooner or later, with all of the populations of Iacon, to find out how quickly he might need to return to exile.

Later, he would. The problems of the world would be able to wait a few hours, for once.

Someone had handed him a vial of engex in the milling chaos that followed the battle. He couldn’t remember who, the faces had all been starting to blur together by then, but he was immensely grateful for it now. It gave him something to do as he stared across their makeshift table at Prowl.

“No welcome back?” Optimus asked. It was petty of him, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from making a comment about the Constructicons. Instead, he stared down at the two glasses of engex he’d poured and wondered why he had ever thought talking to Prowl would be easier than facing the people of New Iacon.

Bumblebee was dead. Starscream ruled Cybertron. Megatron had an Autobot symbol on his chassis, and Optimus had wanted to not think about it for a while, so here they had come, to hide in a corner of the ruined Autobot base and drink. Of course this would not be easy, Optimus thought. Nothing between him and Prowl ever was.

“If Bumblebee hadn’t had the guts to kick you off the planet, I would have done it for him,” Prowl said. It drove through Optimus’s spark like a lance. The revelation hurt, though he should have known to expect it by now. Prowl knew how to wield the truth as a weapon.

He gave Optimus no time to recover. “But I didn’t need to, because you volunteered yourself for it, like a fool.” In their dark, dilapidated corner, Prowl laughed bitterly and knocked back his glass. “You banished yourself without a thought.”

“You said yourself you would have done it,” Optimus shot back, hunching over his own glass.

“Some warning would have been nice,” Prowl hissed.

“It was a mob,” Optimus said, knuckles creaking through his grip on the container. “There was no time to strategize, and you were busy unleashing the Decepticons on the protestors.” This was not how he wanted this to go, when he pictured their reunion while drifting between stars, and that hurts too.

“I did what I had to,” Prowl said, and his voice was full of knives.

“Did you?” Optimus challenged, anger burning at the back of his intake worse than any high grade ever could. “Did you, really?”

“They bombed our headquarters! What did you expect me to do?” Prowl snarled. He pushed away from their table to pace tight circles, as though the anger in his spark was too much to contain. “Stand by and let them kill us all?”

“The war is over, Prowl!”

Prowl’s stare burned through him. “Tell that to Bombshell.”

It was the way Prowl said it that stopped Optimus from giving the retort that had started to form. Prowl was furious, but after all this time, Optimus knew him well enough to see beyond that when he could keep from losing his temper at Prowl’s jabs. And to look at him now, with his doors hanging low on his back and his optics fevered, he looked lonelier than Optimus had ever seen him.

His anger withered away.

Suddenly, Optimus could see the hurt that Prowl had been too proud to voice, the terrible loneliness that dragged at his shoulders and haunted his every word. Silenced stretched choking and heavy between them. Slowly, Optimus set his engex aside, careful of his trembling hands. He reached out and took Prowl’s hand.

Prowl tensed, but did not pull away, and that was enough of a signal for Optimus. He tugged, and this time Prowl let himself be guided until his helm rested against Optimus’s shoulder. Prowl was silent in his arms, but Optimus could feel him shaking, and Optimus shook with him, hurt and regret an equal weight on his spark. 


End file.
